January 7th, 2010
Announcer - Are you a baby in a baby gang?
Babies – Yes!
Announcer – Do other babies make fun of you when you’re doing what you love most… bank robbery, looting, burglary and murder?
Babies – Yes!
Announcer – That’s because you’re not wearing a Jax’s Baby Doo-Rag. For babies. In baby gangs. This distinctive accessory will increase your confidence and fashion sense so you can rediscover the joy that you get from baby extortion. Jax’s Baby Doo-Rags are made to fit the fine definition and contours of your baby head. Plus, we offer a variety of colors: Paisley. Butter. Mother of Pearl. If you’re in a French baby gang… we’ll even provide you with a beret. And anti-Semitism. Any unaffiliated individual disrespecting your style of choice is grounds for a violent retaliation.
Announcer – Listen to what babies are saying about Jax’s Baby Doo-Rags...
Tyler – When I’m cruising the streets in my stroller wearing Jax’s Baby Doo-Rag…it sends a message.
Hailey – Jax’s Baby Doo-Rag has never made drug trafficking look so good! It’s the perfect complement to my baby nunchucks.
Aiden – If only I had my Jax’s Baby Doo-Rag when I was getting circumcised. I would have had the courage to fight back. That savage.
Announcer - When you purchase your Jax’s Baby Doo-Rag, you’ll be given one complementary session at a tattoo parlor to get a tattoo that says, “God damn.. I love my Jax’s Baby Doo-Rag.” This will gain you respect within your baby gang and you’ll be marked as a member for life. So order now. Let the world know that even though you’re only ten pounds, drool and have poor motor skills..you will not be messed with because you’re wearing Jax's Baby Doo-Rag. For Babies. In Baby Gangs.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Day 151 – Warning: Manufacturers Think We’re Idiots
January 6th, 2010
“Estas gafas no defienden contra la luz ultraviolet. Usarlas como gafas de sol no protegerá sus ojo. Utilicelas solamente en el teatro. Mantenga lejos del alcance de los niños baja 3 años.”
I just saw King of the World James Cameron’s three dimensional science fiction epic, “Avatar”. The above was the español warning that was on the packaging of my 3D glasses. It translates to: “These glasses do not screen ultraviolet light. Wearing them as sunglasses will not protect your eyes. Use only in the theater. Keep out of reach of children under 3.”
This is really a shame because there is nothing I would like to do more than to wear these glasses outside of the cineplex and start divvying them out to children under the age of 3 . As I’ve mentioned, I have a dream of starting a baby doo-rag business and I do think 3D glasses would be a phenomenally edgy accessory for babies in baby gangs.
But I was warned. And I’m insulted that manufacturers expect the worst of us. I was inspired to find other products that had warning and instruction labels that leads me to conclude that said creators just have decided that all consumers are special. Not the good kind of special. Here’s what I found on the web. That is worldly. And widely:
Dremel Electric Rotary Tool - This product not intended for use as a dental drill
Arm & Hammer Scoopable Cat Litter - Safe to use around pets
Little Ones Baby Lotion - Keep away from children
Dial Soap - Directions: Use like regular soap
Stridex Foaming Face Wash - May contain foam
Zantac 75 - Do not take if allergic to Zantac
Komatsu Floodlight - This floodlight is capable of illuminating large areas, even in the dark
Pine Mountain Fire Logs - Caution: Risk of fire
Children's Superman Costume - Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly
Nabisco Easy Cheese - For best results, remove cap
500-piece puzzle - Some assembly required
Hotel provided shower cap in a box - Fits one head
Can of self-defense pepper spray - May irritate eyes
Microwave Oven - Do not use for drying pets
Rat Poison - Warning: has been found to cause cancer in laboratory mice
Portable stroller - Caution: Remove infant before folding for storage
Depend Adult Diapers - Step into underwear and pull them on just like regular underwear
Nytol sleep aid - Warning: may cause drowsiness
New Zealand insect spray - This product not tested on animals
Blanket from Taiwan - not to be used as protection from a tornado
Package of Fisherman's Friend throat lozenges - Not meant as substitute for human companionship
“Estas gafas no defienden contra la luz ultraviolet. Usarlas como gafas de sol no protegerá sus ojo. Utilicelas solamente en el teatro. Mantenga lejos del alcance de los niños baja 3 años.”
I just saw King of the World James Cameron’s three dimensional science fiction epic, “Avatar”. The above was the español warning that was on the packaging of my 3D glasses. It translates to: “These glasses do not screen ultraviolet light. Wearing them as sunglasses will not protect your eyes. Use only in the theater. Keep out of reach of children under 3.”
This is really a shame because there is nothing I would like to do more than to wear these glasses outside of the cineplex and start divvying them out to children under the age of 3 . As I’ve mentioned, I have a dream of starting a baby doo-rag business and I do think 3D glasses would be a phenomenally edgy accessory for babies in baby gangs.
But I was warned. And I’m insulted that manufacturers expect the worst of us. I was inspired to find other products that had warning and instruction labels that leads me to conclude that said creators just have decided that all consumers are special. Not the good kind of special. Here’s what I found on the web. That is worldly. And widely:
Dremel Electric Rotary Tool - This product not intended for use as a dental drill
Arm & Hammer Scoopable Cat Litter - Safe to use around pets
Little Ones Baby Lotion - Keep away from children
Dial Soap - Directions: Use like regular soap
Stridex Foaming Face Wash - May contain foam
Zantac 75 - Do not take if allergic to Zantac
Komatsu Floodlight - This floodlight is capable of illuminating large areas, even in the dark
Pine Mountain Fire Logs - Caution: Risk of fire
Children's Superman Costume - Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly
Nabisco Easy Cheese - For best results, remove cap
500-piece puzzle - Some assembly required
Hotel provided shower cap in a box - Fits one head
Can of self-defense pepper spray - May irritate eyes
Microwave Oven - Do not use for drying pets
Rat Poison - Warning: has been found to cause cancer in laboratory mice
Portable stroller - Caution: Remove infant before folding for storage
Depend Adult Diapers - Step into underwear and pull them on just like regular underwear
Nytol sleep aid - Warning: may cause drowsiness
New Zealand insect spray - This product not tested on animals
Blanket from Taiwan - not to be used as protection from a tornado
Package of Fisherman's Friend throat lozenges - Not meant as substitute for human companionship
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Day 150 – Releasapalooza. For Real This Time
January 5th, 2010
A lot of my blog entries around this New Years have revolved around the idea of releasing people and circumstances that no longer serve us. This is so much easier said and typed in my 365 day blog entry challenge than putting into action. I promised to be honest with my readers. I haven’t exactly practiced what I preached in the last few days, I want to “recommit” to detaching from the clutter on my path and make room for my power, security and as Frank Costanza says, “Serenity Now!” We’re only on the 5th day of the new year so I feel like I have a window to restart my resolutions. If it were the 6th day...I’d just wait until next year and dedicate 2010 to bad decision making.
Sometimes it’s time to cut the cord to those scenarios, things and individuals who at one point might have added value, laughter and sometimes pain into our lives. Sometimes we make the metaphorical cut and then choose to revisit it. It’s familiar. Ultimately, I’ve found that the outcome will generally turn out the same and prove that our initial gut feelings about that and who we should say “buh bye” to deserves to be listened to. Life is filled with catalysts that tempt us to say, no scream, “I will revisit what I want to revisit. Fuck the Red Flags. Fuck my ‘knowing place’. Fuck my intention to use the word ‘fuck’ less. So there.”
I usually end up depleted and disappointed that I knowingly re-dabbled in something that does not synchronize with my moving forward. I would compare it to a vice that offers up distraction when I really need to be focusing more on my own life.
So how am I going to implement my releasapalooza into 2010? I’ll start by rereading something my mother sent to me a few years ago. It’s given me a lot of peace and I wanted to share it with you.
A Reason, a Season, or a Lifetime
People come into your life for a reason, a season, or
a lifetime. When you figure out which one it is, you
will know what to do for each person.
When someone is in your life for a REASON . . . It is
usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have
come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you
with guidance and support, to aid you physically,
emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a
godsend, and they are! They are there for the reason
you need them to be.
Then, without any wrong doing on your part, or at an
inconvenient time, this person will say or do something
to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die.
Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our
desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you
sent up has been answered. And now it is time to move on.
When people come into your life for a SEASON . . .
Because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn.
They bring you an experience of peace, or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount
of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons; things
you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional
foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the
person, and put what you have learned to use in all
other relationships and areas of your life. It is said
that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
Author Unknown
A lot of my blog entries around this New Years have revolved around the idea of releasing people and circumstances that no longer serve us. This is so much easier said and typed in my 365 day blog entry challenge than putting into action. I promised to be honest with my readers. I haven’t exactly practiced what I preached in the last few days, I want to “recommit” to detaching from the clutter on my path and make room for my power, security and as Frank Costanza says, “Serenity Now!” We’re only on the 5th day of the new year so I feel like I have a window to restart my resolutions. If it were the 6th day...I’d just wait until next year and dedicate 2010 to bad decision making.
Sometimes it’s time to cut the cord to those scenarios, things and individuals who at one point might have added value, laughter and sometimes pain into our lives. Sometimes we make the metaphorical cut and then choose to revisit it. It’s familiar. Ultimately, I’ve found that the outcome will generally turn out the same and prove that our initial gut feelings about that and who we should say “buh bye” to deserves to be listened to. Life is filled with catalysts that tempt us to say, no scream, “I will revisit what I want to revisit. Fuck the Red Flags. Fuck my ‘knowing place’. Fuck my intention to use the word ‘fuck’ less. So there.”
I usually end up depleted and disappointed that I knowingly re-dabbled in something that does not synchronize with my moving forward. I would compare it to a vice that offers up distraction when I really need to be focusing more on my own life.
So how am I going to implement my releasapalooza into 2010? I’ll start by rereading something my mother sent to me a few years ago. It’s given me a lot of peace and I wanted to share it with you.
A Reason, a Season, or a Lifetime
People come into your life for a reason, a season, or
a lifetime. When you figure out which one it is, you
will know what to do for each person.
When someone is in your life for a REASON . . . It is
usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have
come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you
with guidance and support, to aid you physically,
emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a
godsend, and they are! They are there for the reason
you need them to be.
Then, without any wrong doing on your part, or at an
inconvenient time, this person will say or do something
to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die.
Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our
desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you
sent up has been answered. And now it is time to move on.
When people come into your life for a SEASON . . .
Because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn.
They bring you an experience of peace, or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount
of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons; things
you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional
foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the
person, and put what you have learned to use in all
other relationships and areas of your life. It is said
that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
Author Unknown
Monday, January 4, 2010
Day 149 – Memoirs of a pen named Pen
January 4th, 2010
(The following is from the perspective of a ballpoint pen. Named Pen)
I’ve lived a good life. I write to you with the last reminisce of my ink. I want to immortalize my legacy and share my life’s story with you.
I was born a poor black pen in a small village in France in the year 1992. I was one of an octuplet. My mother (a beautiful feathered pen) was approached by an agent from BIC who saw our ink to paper potential. He wanted to take us to America and mother accepted his offer as she knew we would have a better life in the New World. The eight of us were packaged in a transparent yellow rimmed package and sent directly to a card and gift shop in a strip mall in Duluth, Georgia. We hung on the wall in the company of spiral notebooks, scissors and rubber cement (who would let us sniff them.) After about a month of shelf life, my siblings and I were purchased by a housewife who gave us to her son in the 4th grade. I believe his name was Angus. I was quickly separated from my brothers and sisters when this hellion of a boy abruptly opened our packaging in his social studies class and started dividing us off to his classmates. It was quite traumatic. The teacher was trying to instill some “sharing is caring” lesson. That bitch. I was on my own and was pimped off to a 10 year old named Lucinda who frequently stuck me in her mouth and chewed on my delicate plastic outer shell. My remaining years were spent with a shameful teeth marked deformity.
After about three weeks with Lucinda, she left me on her dining room table and I was retrieved by her he father. A lawyer. He would solicit business from accident victims and their families. A real class act. As fate would have it, he left me in an Olive Garden and I was handed off to the manager who was off to an Olive Garden managerial conference in Vegas. I never actually made it to sin city because he left me on seat 8A on Jet Blue flight 2536. This particular plane did quite a few international flights and an extreme sports enthusiast named Bolt was the next passenger to take the seat and I ended up in his backpack. I was on “his person” when he went skydiving in New Zealand. I think Bolt and I really bonded when we were flying through the air with views of National Parks, blue oceans, golden beaches and meandering rivers. We felt bad about landing on and killing that dingo. Bolt and I were reamed out by a local animal rights activist who was on his way to DC for the “Save the Labradoodles March”. As a peace offering, Bolt handed me off to this vegan and a few days later I was in Washington. I did the march but the following chain of events is a blur. After the rally, I ended up in a hookah bar with my “hipster” host and passed out from the smell of patchouli and molasses flavored tobacco. I came to a few days later in a mug that said “World’s Greatest President”. I was in an office that was oval shaped and a charming southern man was doing naughty things to an intern. All I know is that I got on TV when this smooth gentleman had me sign something called the Brady Bill, which imposes a five-day waiting period on handgun purchases so that background checks can be done to help keep handguns away from criminals.
This powerful man took me with him to a conference at the United Nations in New York and the next thing I know is that I’m in the hands of a Yemen leader named Muhammad Said al-`Attar. A few days later I was living with him in his homeland located in an Arabian Peninsula in Southwest Asia. This was a dark time because I spent several years under a couch cushion with his remote control and some foreign coins. Eventually I was retrieved and did some international traveling with this Yemenite head of state and landed in Argentina…in his mistress’s Prada handbag. During this time, I had a brief and passionate affair with a tampon. She was Super.Super Plus.
My senior years were spent at college keggers, writing illegible doctor prescriptions and at a women’s high security prison. One of these ladies escaped through some hole she cut in her cell wall. With a spork. I fled with her and ultimately ended up in some Polynesian Country. I write to you from a trash can at a tiki bar.
My ink is close to running out. But I feel it is my purpose to leave a message for the pens of the world…fountain, calligraphy and Erasermates. Live your life proud. Write. Write like the wind because Microsoft Office will soon make you obsolete. You will be lost. Like teardrops in the rain.
XOXO
Pen
(The following is from the perspective of a ballpoint pen. Named Pen)
I’ve lived a good life. I write to you with the last reminisce of my ink. I want to immortalize my legacy and share my life’s story with you.
I was born a poor black pen in a small village in France in the year 1992. I was one of an octuplet. My mother (a beautiful feathered pen) was approached by an agent from BIC who saw our ink to paper potential. He wanted to take us to America and mother accepted his offer as she knew we would have a better life in the New World. The eight of us were packaged in a transparent yellow rimmed package and sent directly to a card and gift shop in a strip mall in Duluth, Georgia. We hung on the wall in the company of spiral notebooks, scissors and rubber cement (who would let us sniff them.) After about a month of shelf life, my siblings and I were purchased by a housewife who gave us to her son in the 4th grade. I believe his name was Angus. I was quickly separated from my brothers and sisters when this hellion of a boy abruptly opened our packaging in his social studies class and started dividing us off to his classmates. It was quite traumatic. The teacher was trying to instill some “sharing is caring” lesson. That bitch. I was on my own and was pimped off to a 10 year old named Lucinda who frequently stuck me in her mouth and chewed on my delicate plastic outer shell. My remaining years were spent with a shameful teeth marked deformity.
After about three weeks with Lucinda, she left me on her dining room table and I was retrieved by her he father. A lawyer. He would solicit business from accident victims and their families. A real class act. As fate would have it, he left me in an Olive Garden and I was handed off to the manager who was off to an Olive Garden managerial conference in Vegas. I never actually made it to sin city because he left me on seat 8A on Jet Blue flight 2536. This particular plane did quite a few international flights and an extreme sports enthusiast named Bolt was the next passenger to take the seat and I ended up in his backpack. I was on “his person” when he went skydiving in New Zealand. I think Bolt and I really bonded when we were flying through the air with views of National Parks, blue oceans, golden beaches and meandering rivers. We felt bad about landing on and killing that dingo. Bolt and I were reamed out by a local animal rights activist who was on his way to DC for the “Save the Labradoodles March”. As a peace offering, Bolt handed me off to this vegan and a few days later I was in Washington. I did the march but the following chain of events is a blur. After the rally, I ended up in a hookah bar with my “hipster” host and passed out from the smell of patchouli and molasses flavored tobacco. I came to a few days later in a mug that said “World’s Greatest President”. I was in an office that was oval shaped and a charming southern man was doing naughty things to an intern. All I know is that I got on TV when this smooth gentleman had me sign something called the Brady Bill, which imposes a five-day waiting period on handgun purchases so that background checks can be done to help keep handguns away from criminals.
This powerful man took me with him to a conference at the United Nations in New York and the next thing I know is that I’m in the hands of a Yemen leader named Muhammad Said al-`Attar. A few days later I was living with him in his homeland located in an Arabian Peninsula in Southwest Asia. This was a dark time because I spent several years under a couch cushion with his remote control and some foreign coins. Eventually I was retrieved and did some international traveling with this Yemenite head of state and landed in Argentina…in his mistress’s Prada handbag. During this time, I had a brief and passionate affair with a tampon. She was Super.Super Plus.
My senior years were spent at college keggers, writing illegible doctor prescriptions and at a women’s high security prison. One of these ladies escaped through some hole she cut in her cell wall. With a spork. I fled with her and ultimately ended up in some Polynesian Country. I write to you from a trash can at a tiki bar.
My ink is close to running out. But I feel it is my purpose to leave a message for the pens of the world…fountain, calligraphy and Erasermates. Live your life proud. Write. Write like the wind because Microsoft Office will soon make you obsolete. You will be lost. Like teardrops in the rain.
XOXO
Pen
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Day 148 - The Tension of the Sexual
January 3rd, 2010
Last night I went out for an evening on the town in Austin, Texas with my dearest friend, Erin Scott Kessler. As I’ve mentioned in my blogs over the last few days, I was brought from New York to Austin to teach comedy improv workshops at a high end destination spa called Lake Austin Spa and Resort. Erin is one of my favorite people ever and we performed comedy improv and sketch in Manhattan from 1997-2001. She’s lived in Austin for several years and took me to The Continental Club last night. This venue is considered the “granddaddy” of all local music and we were fortunate enough to see singer-songwriter Chuck Prophet headline. His genius lies in creating a paella of a wide variety of genres that has resulted with him being described as an “early Americana rocker, mid-period electronic folk singer, latter-day style chunky rocker and sensitive pop balladeer.” It sounded like alternative country to me. But what do I know? I’m a comedian. Not a musician. But I do have exceptional singer-songwriter hair.
At one point in the show, the cute bad ass keyboardist chick joined him at the mic for a perfectly harmonized love song of sorts. He introduced her as a friend…but seriously. I mean, seriously. Anyone with vision and the ability to hear could decipher that there was hot hot hot sexual tension between these two. I know the nature of “making the art” together often leads to some primal cravings because sexuality and creativity come from the same source. These two performers were giving each other soulful glances and sharing the same microphone as their lips were ½ an inch away from each other’s. The sexual force field encompassing these two was so over the top palpable that Erin leaned over to me and said, “Get these two off the stage. They MUST have sex. Stat!”
Let’s talk sexual tension. Shall we? Wikipedia defines it as an “occurrence between two people in which two or more of the individuals sexually long for one another, but the consummation is postponed or never occurs." I looked to Urban Dictionary for this term in a sentence. I didn’t feel their examples of the tension of the sex were stellar or particularly helpful...but I have included them just because I’m humored by what names they go with.
- “I so felt the sexual tension between you and Rufio yesterday.”
- “Char and Dom have major sexual tension.”
Poor Rufio, Char and Dom. I have a friend who is a chronic masturbator and would tell them to hit the sex toy store on the Lower East Side called “Toys in Babeland” where you can purchase some inanimate objects(that could double as mantle pieces) that can assist with release. She swears that “you’ll go through double-A batteries like you never have before.”
Looking back, primal sexual longings begin pretty early. One of my first introductions to the pheromone exchange between the two sexes was when I was five years old in a Jacuzzi in a hotel in Washington DC. My parents initially failed to notice that I was alone with 2 people who broke through their tension and began the act of getting to know each. Quite well. In front of my innocent eyes. Mom and dad eventually noticed what had transpired and I was removed from the hot tub. And my new friends.
A few years later, I developed some crushes that I would write about in my Hello Kitty journal…equipped with lock and key. I was in love with Scott Baio, John Ritter and my swim coach at Starmount Country Club, Quint Barefoot. All the mothers swooned over this guy too and would show up at swim practice in heavily applied early 80’s blue eye shadow and sexy form fitting mom jeans. You know, to “support their children, the budding swim stars.” This was also around the time my friend and I had a joint crush on a guy in our fifth grade class. We wrote him a love letter that included our favorite stickers (even the satin ones) and the sentence, “We know you have feelings for us too because you kick us.” We called them love kicks.
I guess I just revisited Jax’s intro to sexuality because I want Chuck Prophet, his singer-songwriter “friend”, Rufio, Char and Dom to know that it might be time to explore the tension. It’s how we’re wired. It’s our birthright. The fact that you're even in the presence of someone feeling a mutual heightened otherworldly energy…is a gift. You’re blessed. Besides, if you continue to hold back, I’m afraid you might end up like my sexually pent up friend who has developed some odd infatuation with Micky Rourke in “The Wrestler” and watches the film 5 times a day to quench her desires. The double-A battery industry sent her a 1-800-FLOWERS bouquet thanking her for singlehandedly being responsible for their best quarter. Ever.
Last night I went out for an evening on the town in Austin, Texas with my dearest friend, Erin Scott Kessler. As I’ve mentioned in my blogs over the last few days, I was brought from New York to Austin to teach comedy improv workshops at a high end destination spa called Lake Austin Spa and Resort. Erin is one of my favorite people ever and we performed comedy improv and sketch in Manhattan from 1997-2001. She’s lived in Austin for several years and took me to The Continental Club last night. This venue is considered the “granddaddy” of all local music and we were fortunate enough to see singer-songwriter Chuck Prophet headline. His genius lies in creating a paella of a wide variety of genres that has resulted with him being described as an “early Americana rocker, mid-period electronic folk singer, latter-day style chunky rocker and sensitive pop balladeer.” It sounded like alternative country to me. But what do I know? I’m a comedian. Not a musician. But I do have exceptional singer-songwriter hair.
At one point in the show, the cute bad ass keyboardist chick joined him at the mic for a perfectly harmonized love song of sorts. He introduced her as a friend…but seriously. I mean, seriously. Anyone with vision and the ability to hear could decipher that there was hot hot hot sexual tension between these two. I know the nature of “making the art” together often leads to some primal cravings because sexuality and creativity come from the same source. These two performers were giving each other soulful glances and sharing the same microphone as their lips were ½ an inch away from each other’s. The sexual force field encompassing these two was so over the top palpable that Erin leaned over to me and said, “Get these two off the stage. They MUST have sex. Stat!”
Let’s talk sexual tension. Shall we? Wikipedia defines it as an “occurrence between two people in which two or more of the individuals sexually long for one another, but the consummation is postponed or never occurs." I looked to Urban Dictionary for this term in a sentence. I didn’t feel their examples of the tension of the sex were stellar or particularly helpful...but I have included them just because I’m humored by what names they go with.
- “I so felt the sexual tension between you and Rufio yesterday.”
- “Char and Dom have major sexual tension.”
Poor Rufio, Char and Dom. I have a friend who is a chronic masturbator and would tell them to hit the sex toy store on the Lower East Side called “Toys in Babeland” where you can purchase some inanimate objects(that could double as mantle pieces) that can assist with release. She swears that “you’ll go through double-A batteries like you never have before.”
Looking back, primal sexual longings begin pretty early. One of my first introductions to the pheromone exchange between the two sexes was when I was five years old in a Jacuzzi in a hotel in Washington DC. My parents initially failed to notice that I was alone with 2 people who broke through their tension and began the act of getting to know each. Quite well. In front of my innocent eyes. Mom and dad eventually noticed what had transpired and I was removed from the hot tub. And my new friends.
A few years later, I developed some crushes that I would write about in my Hello Kitty journal…equipped with lock and key. I was in love with Scott Baio, John Ritter and my swim coach at Starmount Country Club, Quint Barefoot. All the mothers swooned over this guy too and would show up at swim practice in heavily applied early 80’s blue eye shadow and sexy form fitting mom jeans. You know, to “support their children, the budding swim stars.” This was also around the time my friend and I had a joint crush on a guy in our fifth grade class. We wrote him a love letter that included our favorite stickers (even the satin ones) and the sentence, “We know you have feelings for us too because you kick us.” We called them love kicks.
I guess I just revisited Jax’s intro to sexuality because I want Chuck Prophet, his singer-songwriter “friend”, Rufio, Char and Dom to know that it might be time to explore the tension. It’s how we’re wired. It’s our birthright. The fact that you're even in the presence of someone feeling a mutual heightened otherworldly energy…is a gift. You’re blessed. Besides, if you continue to hold back, I’m afraid you might end up like my sexually pent up friend who has developed some odd infatuation with Micky Rourke in “The Wrestler” and watches the film 5 times a day to quench her desires. The double-A battery industry sent her a 1-800-FLOWERS bouquet thanking her for singlehandedly being responsible for their best quarter. Ever.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Day 147 - Adhere to the Pleasure Principle
January, 2nd, 2010
The body doesn’t lie. Even if we tell ourselves that we’re the masters of deluding our emotional wellness, physical symptoms and mannerism are telling when it comes to the state of our truest selves. As an improv teacher, I am constantly telling students onstage to uncross their arms. This position closes them off to other players on stage and most likely to other people in their own lives. I’ve found that how we are on stage is often a mirror to how we conduct ourselves in our daily lives. I’ve also learned that students with poorly postured hunched over shoulders are generally shutting their heart down and having a difficult time attaching and detaching to and from people or circumstances.
Our body loves holding onto tension. Journaling, using Native American rituals to remove “spirits” from our house and 12 step programs are helpful to clear mind and emotional baggage, but physical release needs to be given equal footing. This is particularly true in my case as I am cognizant that I must deliberately take more action to squeeze some tension out of my physique.
Luckily, I’m off to a good start with my goal because my New Years has been spent teaching improv workshops at Lake Austin Spa and Resort, a fancy destination spa in Austin, Texas. I have a variety of tools at my fingertips to aid in my goal of disposing this physical tension. So far, I have found that a unique dance-like class, some ritzy spa services and a steam room challenge have commenced my journey to attain this goal.
When I was seven years old, I took ballet and my poor brother had to suffer through a 5 hour “Nutcracker” performance where I was on stage for a “blink or you’ll miss me” amount of time "jogging" around the Sugar Plum Fairy with other prepubescent aspiring ballerinas. He might have been a little more engaged (and humored) if he had seen me in a Nia Class this morning. Standing for non-impact aerobics, Nia was established in 1983 when the fitness industry was overloaded with strenuous muscle-building high-impact aerobics classes taught by sweatband wearing Jane Fonda wannabes in high cut electric colored leotards. Emphasizing creativity, self-expression and enjoying movement for its own sake, Nia urges people to adhere to "the pleasure principle" and draws from nine movement forms from martial arts, healing arts and dance arts. More specifically:
Martial Arts - T'ai Chi, Tae Kwon Do and Aikido
Healing Arts - Feldenkrais method, Alexander Technique and Yoga
Dance Arts - Jazz dance, Modern dance and Duncan dance
The end result was that I found this class shook out some stress while being fun and gentle. I'm a big fan of consistent low impact exercise and I welcome the built in physical activity of the constant walking that comes with living in New York. I agree with Deepak Chopra’s theory that Western society has it all wrong because the purpose of exercise is to gain energy. Not deplete it. Granted, I am aware and grateful that genetics are a significant component that has allowed me to maintain my health and weight under the low impact umbrella. Thanks mom and dad. You’re tops.
Next up on my “physical tension be gone” agenda was to take advantage of my two complimentary spa treatments. I’ve always seemed to resonate with acupuncture so I had an hour with a guy who, along with using needles, burned an herb called moxibustion (moxa) directly on the acupuncture points to stimulate circulation to induce smoother flow of blood and chi. The fact that moxa smells like the love child of sage and marijuana explains why I felt so creative, profound and hungry after the session. For my next service, I went with your basic Swedish massage. I was a little concerned when my masseuse gave me a weak handshake when we were introduced. I thought that could be telling in regards to her strength of massage and character. Side note, if you’re on a date, see how your potential romantic partner treats the wait staff. That’s how they’ll treat you in 20 years. Back to Sweden. Luckily, my instincts were proven wrong about the masseuse because I felt some notable relaxation as she was quite good at her craft. Only downside, she was a bit of a heavy breather.
My final attempt at making my body feels like Jell-O was a self induced steam room challenge. I had only been able to last a measly 5 minutes for the last few days…and that’s just embarrassing. I can perform on stage, run a marathon and be on day 147 of my 365 day blog entry challenge….I should be able to be steamed longer. I mean, my toxins aren’t going to remove themselves. My new spa friend Elva was in there to coach me. She suggested that I put some eucalyptus spray under my nose for a kick. I put it on my entire face right before I poured my thermos full of half water/half tea on my head and neck. I was afraid that I would turn into a puddle and be unable to write today’s entry so I crawled out as if I just unwillingly spent a few years in the Sahara. Final time: 15 minutes.
Overall, I do feel I have released some stored up physical tension and hope to maintain new and improved flowy and toxin free Jax when I return to the real world tomorrow. Let’s just gently overlook that tonight I'm going out to party in downtown Austin to wreak some havoc on my mind, body and spirit. Like Nia, I adhere to the pleasure principle.
The body doesn’t lie. Even if we tell ourselves that we’re the masters of deluding our emotional wellness, physical symptoms and mannerism are telling when it comes to the state of our truest selves. As an improv teacher, I am constantly telling students onstage to uncross their arms. This position closes them off to other players on stage and most likely to other people in their own lives. I’ve found that how we are on stage is often a mirror to how we conduct ourselves in our daily lives. I’ve also learned that students with poorly postured hunched over shoulders are generally shutting their heart down and having a difficult time attaching and detaching to and from people or circumstances.
Our body loves holding onto tension. Journaling, using Native American rituals to remove “spirits” from our house and 12 step programs are helpful to clear mind and emotional baggage, but physical release needs to be given equal footing. This is particularly true in my case as I am cognizant that I must deliberately take more action to squeeze some tension out of my physique.
Luckily, I’m off to a good start with my goal because my New Years has been spent teaching improv workshops at Lake Austin Spa and Resort, a fancy destination spa in Austin, Texas. I have a variety of tools at my fingertips to aid in my goal of disposing this physical tension. So far, I have found that a unique dance-like class, some ritzy spa services and a steam room challenge have commenced my journey to attain this goal.
When I was seven years old, I took ballet and my poor brother had to suffer through a 5 hour “Nutcracker” performance where I was on stage for a “blink or you’ll miss me” amount of time "jogging" around the Sugar Plum Fairy with other prepubescent aspiring ballerinas. He might have been a little more engaged (and humored) if he had seen me in a Nia Class this morning. Standing for non-impact aerobics, Nia was established in 1983 when the fitness industry was overloaded with strenuous muscle-building high-impact aerobics classes taught by sweatband wearing Jane Fonda wannabes in high cut electric colored leotards. Emphasizing creativity, self-expression and enjoying movement for its own sake, Nia urges people to adhere to "the pleasure principle" and draws from nine movement forms from martial arts, healing arts and dance arts. More specifically:
Martial Arts - T'ai Chi, Tae Kwon Do and Aikido
Healing Arts - Feldenkrais method, Alexander Technique and Yoga
Dance Arts - Jazz dance, Modern dance and Duncan dance
The end result was that I found this class shook out some stress while being fun and gentle. I'm a big fan of consistent low impact exercise and I welcome the built in physical activity of the constant walking that comes with living in New York. I agree with Deepak Chopra’s theory that Western society has it all wrong because the purpose of exercise is to gain energy. Not deplete it. Granted, I am aware and grateful that genetics are a significant component that has allowed me to maintain my health and weight under the low impact umbrella. Thanks mom and dad. You’re tops.
Next up on my “physical tension be gone” agenda was to take advantage of my two complimentary spa treatments. I’ve always seemed to resonate with acupuncture so I had an hour with a guy who, along with using needles, burned an herb called moxibustion (moxa) directly on the acupuncture points to stimulate circulation to induce smoother flow of blood and chi. The fact that moxa smells like the love child of sage and marijuana explains why I felt so creative, profound and hungry after the session. For my next service, I went with your basic Swedish massage. I was a little concerned when my masseuse gave me a weak handshake when we were introduced. I thought that could be telling in regards to her strength of massage and character. Side note, if you’re on a date, see how your potential romantic partner treats the wait staff. That’s how they’ll treat you in 20 years. Back to Sweden. Luckily, my instincts were proven wrong about the masseuse because I felt some notable relaxation as she was quite good at her craft. Only downside, she was a bit of a heavy breather.
My final attempt at making my body feels like Jell-O was a self induced steam room challenge. I had only been able to last a measly 5 minutes for the last few days…and that’s just embarrassing. I can perform on stage, run a marathon and be on day 147 of my 365 day blog entry challenge….I should be able to be steamed longer. I mean, my toxins aren’t going to remove themselves. My new spa friend Elva was in there to coach me. She suggested that I put some eucalyptus spray under my nose for a kick. I put it on my entire face right before I poured my thermos full of half water/half tea on my head and neck. I was afraid that I would turn into a puddle and be unable to write today’s entry so I crawled out as if I just unwillingly spent a few years in the Sahara. Final time: 15 minutes.
Overall, I do feel I have released some stored up physical tension and hope to maintain new and improved flowy and toxin free Jax when I return to the real world tomorrow. Let’s just gently overlook that tonight I'm going out to party in downtown Austin to wreak some havoc on my mind, body and spirit. Like Nia, I adhere to the pleasure principle.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Day 146 - I Heart Erin Scott Kessler. I Heart Her Hard
January 1st, 2010
Yesterday I wrote about the significance of clearing physical, emotional and human “clutter” from our lives to create room to let positive circumstances and people into our space to provide forward movement that allows good energy, authenticity and happier dispositions. On the flip side, there are passions and individuals that I will grasp onto for my entire life to ensure that I keep my spirit and life in flow. There is no doubt that I will always be performing, writing and teaching comedy in some capacity. Then there is Erin Scott Kessler. She’s my kindred spirit. My BFF. My rock, if you will. I will never let this girl go because there is none more authentic, supportive and talented than she. I’ve been in her weddings. Both of them.
We met in our early New York formative years in 1997 in the basement of a Dean and Deluca for an audition for an improv troupe called “Endangered Improv”. Michael, the director/producer, was the son of the original Second City director, Ann Bowen. Erin and I connected immediately. We were both southerners, she was from New Orleans and I was from North Carolina and were both semi naïve 22 year old creative types that had just graduated college and moved to New York. We also had the same body type.
Michael, like many people who aren’t 100% balanced, possessed this unbelievable charisma(at times) that was perfect for enchanting young 20 somethings into his improv world. He wanted to be the man in control. He never allowed manly men in the group. Maybe a gay. Or a man in a diaper. Eventually, all the guys left or were kicked out and the name of our group changed to WIGS (Women’s Improv Group.) Erin and I were onto his narcissism from the beginning but stuck it out because we did learn some fundamental improvisational basics from the guy and there was always the hope that we would get to work with his legendary mother. Lucky for us and not so lucky for Michael, his vices, delusions or the misfortune that he was no longer getting laid by one of the girls in the group, made him incapable of working with us and he passed us onto his mom.
During the Michael days, Erin night managed Bar 54, a restaurant/bar next door to Dave Letterman at the Ed Sullivan Theater that was often frequented by European types who weren’t into the art of tipping. I worked there for five minutes. It didn’t take. Michael was somehow given the job as general manager and (unsurprisingly) his comically demented character traits crossed over to this world. Erin told me that there were two trained bartenders named Mark and Paul who were chiseled, funny and incredibly threatening to Michael. Erin walked into work one night and the following dialogue exchange occurred:
Michael – Mark’s gone and I’m getting rid of Paul too.
Erin - Did they steal?
Michael – (Irate) No. Listen to this. Mark comes in for his shift at 8PM. This is prime dinner time Erin.(Side note:Prime dinner time crowds at Bar 54 consisted of 4 people. Maybe 6.) He’s wearing penny loafers! And no socks! It’s grotesque. Who the fuck does he think he is? He’s a no good penny loafer no sock wearing...coming in here, no socks, no socks, no socks! (The following is delivered very slowly.) This is what you need to know about bartenders Erin. You see…Mark…he’s shit. He’s shit inside. Inside, he’s shit.
Soon after this, Erin left the restaurant, Michael fled town and Erin was inspired to create her own improv group, Molotov Cockroach. She’ll say that we co-founded it but she was the driving force and I was simply the second in command. Our shows consisted of improv games and sketches with tight creative transitions which gave our productions a seamless feel. Giuliani had recently transformed peep show venues into Off Broadway theaters and we would do some shows at these converts that often had poles on the stage. One memorable sketch was called “Charlton in Charge” where Charlton Heston was the adored rifle wielding babysitter teaching the kids about the NRA.
This was one of my happiest times in New York because of its rawness, really coming into my own and accepting that I was an artist.
In 2001, Erin’s life took a huge turn that was traumatic but ultimately ended up being a blessing in disguise. In May 2001, Erin married Neil. In December 2001, Erin divorces Neil because he didn’t get the memo that explained that when you get married you’re not supposed to have sex with other people. She was working at New York University and received an email from the girl he was shtupping that was a detailed account of his infidelity. She comes over to my apartment immediately with this grounded empowering strength and calmly says, “Pop the champagne that I don’t have kids with this asshole.” Soon after, she moved home to New Orleans and then to Austin where she met her wonderful husband Kevin. They’ve made two babies. Girls.
Whenever I come to Austin, I get to see my favorite lady. I’m teaching a comedy improv workshop for a few days at Lake Austin Spa and Resort and she came to visit me yesterday afternoon. As we went on a long walk and sat by the pool, we reminisced about our shared experiences in New York from 1997 to 2001. It was very much like two friends catching up over an intimate cup of General Mills International Coffee. The Vienna Blend.
I got into journalist mode and started a casual interview with Erin:
Jax: What do you miss about living in New York?
Erin: Being in a place as big as my ambitions.
Jax: Your character work is as committed, brilliant and as transformative as Kristen Wig’s. I don’t throw out this grandiose analogy lightly. How do you embody (mind, body, spirit) these rich characters that you create?
Erin: I have to be in character for a few minutes before I get on stage. First I get the physicality down and then I layer in the vocal aspects and the emotional components.
Jax – Your strength was the character work while I was more of the writer and host.
Erin – You could make a character out of the straight woman. You were an anchor for the shows with amazing one liners. There was one bit that we did where you were being sold something complicated and needed more explanation. You said, “I’m not very smart and…hell...I’m not going to pretend like I am…” That brought the audience back into this esoteric world that we were trying to build.
Jax: The sketch that you and I created called SOMO’s (Southern Mothers) is one of my all time favorites. Just our names..Loretta and Judith.
Erin: I remember coming on stage (wearing neckerchiefs) and talking in this lovely upper class over the top southern accented gibberish. We would talk over each other and then take these exaggerated collective sighs.
Jax: We were so in sync. There was almost a rhythm to it. Then we would try to outdo each other with our children’s achievements. I’d tell you, “My daughter just move to New York and got a part in a film on the Greek Isles. It’s being filmed in New Jersey. She’s not getting paid…but she got a free lunch.”
Erin: Then I’d turn to the audience and say joyously, “Well that’s like getting paid..ya gotta pay for lunch!”
Jax: I miss throwing regular house parties and having you at them.
Erin: When I think of your parties...I think of fondue and no cliques. New Year’s 2001…you had this huge party in your studio apartment in the village. You were preparing spinach dip, there was some type of “Breakfast Club” Molly Ringawald dancethon and people were doing ecstasy in the bathroom.
Jax: Who was that guy you would make out with in the bathroom at Bar 54?
Erin: Greg Sax. He played the bass.
Jax: Words of advice for your daughters? And my blog readers.
Erin: A goal is only as good as its commitment.
Yesterday I wrote about the significance of clearing physical, emotional and human “clutter” from our lives to create room to let positive circumstances and people into our space to provide forward movement that allows good energy, authenticity and happier dispositions. On the flip side, there are passions and individuals that I will grasp onto for my entire life to ensure that I keep my spirit and life in flow. There is no doubt that I will always be performing, writing and teaching comedy in some capacity. Then there is Erin Scott Kessler. She’s my kindred spirit. My BFF. My rock, if you will. I will never let this girl go because there is none more authentic, supportive and talented than she. I’ve been in her weddings. Both of them.
We met in our early New York formative years in 1997 in the basement of a Dean and Deluca for an audition for an improv troupe called “Endangered Improv”. Michael, the director/producer, was the son of the original Second City director, Ann Bowen. Erin and I connected immediately. We were both southerners, she was from New Orleans and I was from North Carolina and were both semi naïve 22 year old creative types that had just graduated college and moved to New York. We also had the same body type.
Michael, like many people who aren’t 100% balanced, possessed this unbelievable charisma(at times) that was perfect for enchanting young 20 somethings into his improv world. He wanted to be the man in control. He never allowed manly men in the group. Maybe a gay. Or a man in a diaper. Eventually, all the guys left or were kicked out and the name of our group changed to WIGS (Women’s Improv Group.) Erin and I were onto his narcissism from the beginning but stuck it out because we did learn some fundamental improvisational basics from the guy and there was always the hope that we would get to work with his legendary mother. Lucky for us and not so lucky for Michael, his vices, delusions or the misfortune that he was no longer getting laid by one of the girls in the group, made him incapable of working with us and he passed us onto his mom.
During the Michael days, Erin night managed Bar 54, a restaurant/bar next door to Dave Letterman at the Ed Sullivan Theater that was often frequented by European types who weren’t into the art of tipping. I worked there for five minutes. It didn’t take. Michael was somehow given the job as general manager and (unsurprisingly) his comically demented character traits crossed over to this world. Erin told me that there were two trained bartenders named Mark and Paul who were chiseled, funny and incredibly threatening to Michael. Erin walked into work one night and the following dialogue exchange occurred:
Michael – Mark’s gone and I’m getting rid of Paul too.
Erin - Did they steal?
Michael – (Irate) No. Listen to this. Mark comes in for his shift at 8PM. This is prime dinner time Erin.(Side note:Prime dinner time crowds at Bar 54 consisted of 4 people. Maybe 6.) He’s wearing penny loafers! And no socks! It’s grotesque. Who the fuck does he think he is? He’s a no good penny loafer no sock wearing...coming in here, no socks, no socks, no socks! (The following is delivered very slowly.) This is what you need to know about bartenders Erin. You see…Mark…he’s shit. He’s shit inside. Inside, he’s shit.
Soon after this, Erin left the restaurant, Michael fled town and Erin was inspired to create her own improv group, Molotov Cockroach. She’ll say that we co-founded it but she was the driving force and I was simply the second in command. Our shows consisted of improv games and sketches with tight creative transitions which gave our productions a seamless feel. Giuliani had recently transformed peep show venues into Off Broadway theaters and we would do some shows at these converts that often had poles on the stage. One memorable sketch was called “Charlton in Charge” where Charlton Heston was the adored rifle wielding babysitter teaching the kids about the NRA.
This was one of my happiest times in New York because of its rawness, really coming into my own and accepting that I was an artist.
In 2001, Erin’s life took a huge turn that was traumatic but ultimately ended up being a blessing in disguise. In May 2001, Erin married Neil. In December 2001, Erin divorces Neil because he didn’t get the memo that explained that when you get married you’re not supposed to have sex with other people. She was working at New York University and received an email from the girl he was shtupping that was a detailed account of his infidelity. She comes over to my apartment immediately with this grounded empowering strength and calmly says, “Pop the champagne that I don’t have kids with this asshole.” Soon after, she moved home to New Orleans and then to Austin where she met her wonderful husband Kevin. They’ve made two babies. Girls.
Whenever I come to Austin, I get to see my favorite lady. I’m teaching a comedy improv workshop for a few days at Lake Austin Spa and Resort and she came to visit me yesterday afternoon. As we went on a long walk and sat by the pool, we reminisced about our shared experiences in New York from 1997 to 2001. It was very much like two friends catching up over an intimate cup of General Mills International Coffee. The Vienna Blend.
I got into journalist mode and started a casual interview with Erin:
Jax: What do you miss about living in New York?
Erin: Being in a place as big as my ambitions.
Jax: Your character work is as committed, brilliant and as transformative as Kristen Wig’s. I don’t throw out this grandiose analogy lightly. How do you embody (mind, body, spirit) these rich characters that you create?
Erin: I have to be in character for a few minutes before I get on stage. First I get the physicality down and then I layer in the vocal aspects and the emotional components.
Jax – Your strength was the character work while I was more of the writer and host.
Erin – You could make a character out of the straight woman. You were an anchor for the shows with amazing one liners. There was one bit that we did where you were being sold something complicated and needed more explanation. You said, “I’m not very smart and…hell...I’m not going to pretend like I am…” That brought the audience back into this esoteric world that we were trying to build.
Jax: The sketch that you and I created called SOMO’s (Southern Mothers) is one of my all time favorites. Just our names..Loretta and Judith.
Erin: I remember coming on stage (wearing neckerchiefs) and talking in this lovely upper class over the top southern accented gibberish. We would talk over each other and then take these exaggerated collective sighs.
Jax: We were so in sync. There was almost a rhythm to it. Then we would try to outdo each other with our children’s achievements. I’d tell you, “My daughter just move to New York and got a part in a film on the Greek Isles. It’s being filmed in New Jersey. She’s not getting paid…but she got a free lunch.”
Erin: Then I’d turn to the audience and say joyously, “Well that’s like getting paid..ya gotta pay for lunch!”
Jax: I miss throwing regular house parties and having you at them.
Erin: When I think of your parties...I think of fondue and no cliques. New Year’s 2001…you had this huge party in your studio apartment in the village. You were preparing spinach dip, there was some type of “Breakfast Club” Molly Ringawald dancethon and people were doing ecstasy in the bathroom.
Jax: Who was that guy you would make out with in the bathroom at Bar 54?
Erin: Greg Sax. He played the bass.
Jax: Words of advice for your daughters? And my blog readers.
Erin: A goal is only as good as its commitment.
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